


Never a Sidekick

by LucyPryde



Series: Moments of Heroism [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blackvibe wedding, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, blackvibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyPryde/pseuds/LucyPryde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate title: 5 Times Laurel Lance's Life Belonged to Cisco Ramon. 5 sweet moments in Laurel and Cisco's relationship wherein Laurel gets protective, scars make dress shopping difficult, and things move entirely too fast. Guest-starring mansplaining, wedding bells, and "Good Vibrations."  Companion piece to "My Hero(ine)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never a Sidekick

**Author's Note:**

> As requested, a sequel/companion piece to "My Hero(ine)." Laurel's head is a very complex sort of place, and so this one is a lot longer and a little heavier. I hope you enjoy it!

**I. The time she sprung him from the clink**

 Laurel awakens in her mother’s apartment in Central City to the sound of water running and pans clanging. She smiles, having missed those noises, and her hand snakes through the soft sheets her mother has put in the guest room to find her phone. Her screen tells her that there are five new messages from Cisco Ramon, and she snaps into a sitting position as she eagerly scrolls through them. It’s not uncommon for Cisco to get on a roll with cat memes. The first message, however, is definitely not a cat meme.

_Hey, I might be a little late. Helping a friend move some equipment._

Laurel smiles. Cisco told her he’d be helping a friend move some fireman’s equipment around for a charity fundraiser before she planned her trip to Central City, but it’s sweet that he’s so considerate. He’s supposed to show her the city, which she is grateful for. She knows that if her mom gave her a tour, Laurel would mainly be looking at coffee shops, bookstores and classrooms at Central City University.

_Make that a lot late_. Laurel groans, and her heart drops when she sees the next text message.

_Is it strictly legal for them to give me a ticket for parking in a loading zone while unloading fire extinguishers?_

_If so, can it really cost $800?_

_I don’t know what this guy’s problem is. Maybe he recognizes me from all of the particle accelerator articles._

Cisco doesn’t talk about it, but she knows that there was a lot of hate for STAR Labs. People are still mourning those who died as a result of the explosion, and the meta-human situation is not exactly being met with a warm welcome outside of Barry’s positive influence. She is surprised to see her phone light up again, this time displaying Cisco’s name and a grinning selfie he must have taken with her phone the last time they met up. Her ringtone plays for half a second before she picks up the phone.

“Cisco? Are you okay?”

“Hey, Laurel. I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel. It’s. . . complicated.”

“Where are you?” He doesn’t answer, but she hears noises in the background that are too familiar. She is a policeman’s daughter, and she knows what the inside of a police station sounds like. “Are you in the police station? Does Joe know?”

“Yes,” he mumbles, “and no. It’s his day off.”

“Sit tight. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Laurel, you don’t have to—”

“Cisco, you are seriously mistaken if you think you can skip out on our tour. Tell them your lawyer is on her way and that if they lay a hand on you, she’ll have their asses.” Laurel hangs up and hurriedly gets dressed. She’s glad that she packed a business suit, so she at least looks somewhat put together. Her hair goes up into a quick ponytail, and she speeds out to the kitchen with her phone still in her hand.

“Mom, can I borrow your car? Cisco’s in trouble.”

“Of course, sweetie. Do you need me to come with you?”

“No,” Laurel says darkly. “You probably won’t approve of the language I’m about to use.”

Dinah laughs, handing Laurel her keys. “Whenever you get done, bring Cisco on over. I’ve heard enough about him that I’d like to meet him. I’ll keep breakfast warm.”

“You’re the best,” Laurel chirps with a grin and plants a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. Years of hurt are being weathered away now that their family is all alive again. They might not be together, but they are somehow whole. She drives like she’s just stolen the Hope Diamond, and it’s a wonder that she doesn’t get pulled over on her way to the police station. She parks her mom’s car quickly, grabs her purse, and breezes into the station like she owns the place.

“May I help you?” The receptionist behind the desk looks like all receptionists at police stations: plump with a pleasant expression on her face that barely hints at the fact that she likely has ovaries of steel. The floral-patterned jumper dress the woman is wearing does not deceive Laurel Lance, who is on a first-name basis with Betty, this woman’s counterpart in Star City.

“Hi, Kim,” Laurel says with a quick look at the nameplate. “I’m Laurel Lance. I’m here to pick up my client, Cisco Ramon.” She slides a business card across the desk to Kim, who glances at it.

Kim consults her computer, frowning. “I’m sorry, Miss Lance. It looks like Mr. Ramon is currently in a holding cell. You’ll need to talk to Officer Bevins. He’s on a smoke break right now, I think.”

It is slight, but the way that Kim says “Officer Bevins” sounds like she always follows his name up in her mind with I hate that guy. Laurel can work with that. “Do you mind if I stay here and chat with you while we wait for him to get back?”

“Fine by me. Can I get you a soda or some coffee?”

“No, but thank you. Did you see them bring in my client?”

“Yeah. He really doesn’t seem the hardened criminal type,” Kim remarks, and Laurel pictures Cisco’s puppy-dog eyes and sweet manners.

“He’s really not. I’m surprised that he’s here at all. Can you tell me the charges?”

Kim looks around, but nobody else is watching them.“Act surprised when Bevins tells you this, but he’s claiming that Mr. Ramon assaulted an officer.”

“Cisco?” Laurel laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Bevins brings in a lot of people with that charge. There’s something about him that kind of makes you want to punch him in the face, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if your client tried.”

Laurel grins. “And do these charges usually stick?”

“When Bevins can make them. He’s gotten in trouble recently, though, so he’s kind of on thin ice with the chief.”

“Interesting. What kind of trouble?”

“I really shouldn’t say anything,” Kim mutters, “and if you get me in trouble, I’m going to deny every word.”

“Understandably. I’m not here to cause any trouble for you, Kim. I just want to help my friend.”

Kim surveys the area, content when no one else is in listening distance. “He made some remarks to Captain Singh about his sexual orientation, and he’s also not the best when it comes to accepting anyone who is different than him.”

“Are you suggesting that he’s racist?”

“That and other things. I think a good blanket term would be ‘asshole,’ but nobody ever asks me.”

“They should, Kim. Everyone knows that the receptionists at police stations have the four-one-one.”

Kim grins. “Yeah, but having everyone think I just answer phones and file things all day works to my advantage. They don’t know how much I know until I need it to work in my favor.”

“Devious. I like it.”

“You’re a lawyer. Of course you do. Oh, that’s him,” Kim remarks, pointing to a uniformed officer coming in one of the side doors.

“Thanks, Kim. I’ll be in touch.” Kim nods, and Laurel’s heels click across the floor as she pursues Officer Bevins. “Officer Bevins?”

“Yeah,” he says, turning around. He slides his eyes over her body, and revulsion sends a shiver down Laurel’s spine. He is built like a sequoia and appears to have the flexibility of one.

“Hi,” she says, extending a hand. He shakes it, and his fingers are warm and sticky. Laurel pulls her hand back and wipes it on her skirt.“I’m here to see you about a client of mine that you put in a holding cell, Mr. Ramon.”

“You’re representing that little punk?”

“Yes. I need to know why you’re keeping my client here and what you think that he did wrong.”

Bevins puts his hands on his hips, and Laurel braces herself for some mansplaining.

“Listen, missy: your client assaulted an officer.”

“How so?”

“He hit me in the chest while resisting arrest.”

“And for what crime was my client being arrested?”

“He back-talked me about paying a ticket.”

“Regardless of the fact that ‘back-talking’ is not a crime, may I ask what the ticket was for?”

“He parked in a loading zone in front of City Hall,” Bevins says, his voice meaty and gruff.

“And what was my client doing?” “He was moving some property.”

“And whose property was it?”

Under his breath, Bevins says, “None of your damn business.”

Laurel hears it and stands up straighter. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I could hear your mumbling. Please speak up.”

“I said that it’s none of your damn business.” Bevins’ voice is louder than any other sound in the station, and every face in the room turns their direction.

“My client’s alleged crime is none of my damn business? That will hold up great in court.” Laurel hears footsteps behind her and turns to see a handsome, dark-haired man approaching them.

“Is there a problem here?”

“Yes, sir. There is. My client was brought in on charges that are still unclear, although I suspect he was unlawfully brought here because he dared to load items while parked in a loading zone, and was subsequently arrested for allegedly abusing poor Officer Bevins.”

“Bevins?”

“The little wetb—”

“I don’t want to hear what you were about to say, Officer Bevins. Unless you are injured from the horrible attack I’m sure you experienced today, I think it would be wise for you to drop all charges and apologize to—”

“Francisco Ramon,” Laurel supplies helpfully. “Mr. Ramon,” the tall man replies. “Unless you’d like me to get the chief to discuss this matter with you; I know how much you two love to chat.”

“That’s not necessary, sir. I’ll start the paperwork,” Bevins says hurriedly, and Laurel fights the urge to yell “double-time” behind him as he scoots away. She turns to the man who interceded with a smile and an extended hand. “Laurel Lance,” she says warmly.

“Captain David Singh,” he replies, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “Kim mentioned that Bevins was getting a little rowdy with ‘a nice lady from Star City’ and asked me to make sure everything was kosher.”

Laurel beams in Kim’s direction. She is definitely buying that woman a gift basket. “Kim’s pretty sharp. So, I assume that I can see my client now that his paperwork is on its way to being in order?”

“Of course. I’ll make sure that Bevins does his homework—it’ll be like this never happened for Cisco. If I’d have known that Bevins had brought him in, he never would have even been put into a holding cell. Cisco’s a good guy.”

“You know Cisco?” “He’s helped us out a few times—he’s friends with a detectives’ adopted kid.”

“I’m glad that you’re not letting these ridiculous charges go through. Cisco doesn’t have a record and he doesn’t need one.”

“I agree. Come on, Miss Lance. Let’s get your client out of here.”

“Ramon, you look so sad that I’m surprised you don’t have a harmonica in there with you to play the blues.”

Cisco is sitting on the hard bench, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes on the ground. It is the saddest sight Laurel has ever seen, and she doesn’t like the way his face looks without its usual hint of a smile.

“It probably would have been confiscated during the pat-down,” he replies morosely, and Laurel can’t help but laugh. Captain Singh steps forward to unlock and open the door, and Cisco jumps to his feet.

“Laurel!” Her name is the only thing out of his mouth, but it sounds like pure joy.

“Hi, Cisco. I’m sorry it took me a while to spring you. Captain Singh has assured me that not every officer in this place is a bigoted asshole.”

“Just that one,” Singh mutters under his breath. He turns to Cisco. “You’re free to go, and you have my apologies on behalf of your extremely mistaken arresting officer. He didn’t rough you up or anything, did he?”

Cisco rubs his wrists, and Laurel notices that there are faint lines of bruising forming there and a few fingerprints on his arms. Something claws around in her chest that feels a lot like rage. “We’ll be filing a complaint against Officer Bevins,” she says crisply before Cisco can say anything.

“I don’t blame you,” Captain Singh tells her. “You two try to have a nice day.”

“We will,” Laurel says, and she takes Cisco’s hand without thinking and starts walking him out of the police station. People stare at them as they walk past the desks, and she stops to take one of Kim’s business cards on the way out.

Kim just grins and shoots them both a wink. “Hold onto that one,” she tells Cisco. “I’ve only seen a few people hand Bevins his balls like she just did.”

“Don’t worry,” Cisco tells her with a conspiratorial grin. “This entire situation was an elaborate set-up to get her to move here. She’s a lawyer—seeing all of the injustice happening here in Central City is going to be too much for her. I can feel it.”

“Shut up,” Laurel says, pulling him away from the desk. “My mom made breakfast.”

Later, after Cisco has eaten his fill and is washing dishes with her mother—“Call me Dinah, sweetie”—as they discuss tapas recipes, Laurel realizes that she didn’t feel a single flutter of nervousness about bringing him home to meet her mother.

**II. The time she kicked Hartley’s ass**

Laurel has been living in Central City for two days when she sees Cisco truly angry for the first time. He does not fume or vent like she’s seen him do when he’s hurt or upset. Rather, he sits at his workstation and puts together some sort of joystick-shaped weapon with scary precision and silence. There is no muttering about velocity or air resistance or any of the other words he often uses that confuse her. There is only the sound of him picking up tiny components with tweezers and fitting them together like the most important puzzle.

Laurel is still awkward here. This place is no Arrow Cave. Instead, it is all bright light and sterile air and psychedelic LEDs from the fish tank on the counter. She stares through the glass at the fish Cisco bought her—she kept calling it “fantastic” so often that Cisco has started calling the fish Nine after the 9th Doctor—and smiles as his fish swims by. Cisco refuses to tell her Canary’s name, but Ronnie and Caitlin let it slip on a coffee run yesterday and she gets a glowy feeling every time she passes the tank now.

Barry is still at work and Caitlin and Ronnie have each given odd excuses and left within four minutes of each other. Laurel doesn’t want to think about what that means in reality, but what it means in this moment is that she is alone in the cortex with Cisco for the first time, and he is furious. Finally, she approaches him, pulling up a stool to sit alongside him and watch him work. She says nothing when he is still holding delicate equipment, but waits until he sets his tools down and clenches his fists.

“What’s wrong? And please don’t be all broody and say ‘Nothing’.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, but looks up at her. As soon as they make eye contact, his face slackens in defeat. “Hartley. The Pied Piper,” he clarifies. “I told you about him once.”

“I remember.” It was one of their first phone conversations. Cisco had just been down in the pipeline putting a new bad guy away and looking at Hartley’s empty cell still turned his stomach. He’d called Laurel venting and needing comfort. It was one of the first moments that Laurel had realized that Cisco was officially her best friend. She truly had wanted to know what was bothering him, and had wanted to help. She still does. That’s why she knows that the past few days have been rough. Hartley reappeared in Central City just before she moved here, and Cisco has been trying to hide how terrified he is to make her feel more welcome. She hasn’t even gone on patrol here yet, and she knows that he doesn’t want her to be overwhelmed.

“I just. . . the thought of him out there, of everything that he’s done makes me sick. He’s bursting people’s eardrums for fun. And I let him out.”

“If you hadn’t, would Ronnie be here? Would Doctor Stein?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself. What you can do is help us catch him.”

Cisco gestures to the item he’s building. “That’s what I’m doing. It’s almost done.”

“You need caffeine,” she tells him, having noticed him taking the last slurps of his soda a couple of hours ago. “I’ll be back.”

“Bless you,” he says genuinely.

She comes back to find Caitlin and Ronnie back but not unruffled. Caitlin’s cardigan is on inside-out, and Laurel snickers to herself from the doorway.

“What is it?”

Laurel jumps as Barry appears beside her. “You’re lucky I was holding these drinks,” she tells him, “because I almost punched you in the throat by reflex.”

Barry adjusts his tie. “Sorry. What were you laughing at?”

“Caitlin and Ronnie,” she whispers. “Her sweater is inside out. . . Their coffee break took a while.”

Barry cringes, but flashes into the room and back to the doorway. Laurel notices that Caitlin’s sweater is right-side out now.

“What was that?” Caitlin asks. “What did you do? If you put a ‘kick me’ sign on my back, I swear…”

“Please, Caitlin. I had too many of those signs on my back to ever put one on anyone else. Your. .. tag was sticking out.”

“Oh. Thanks!”

Laurel and Barry share a smile as they walk into the room together. She sets a large drink in front of Cisco before handing the rest out to the others.

“Sweet nectar of the gods,” Cisco praises. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She barely has time to take a sip of her own drink before alarms start sounding.

“What is it?” Barry appears beside one monitor already dressed in his suit. For some reason, this annoys Laurel; it takes her at least three minutes to suit up, although Cisco assures her that the costume he is making for her will cut down on that.

“It looks like Hartley’s at it again,” Ronnie says darkly, pulling up a security camera image of a figure in a hood holding up his hands towards an upscale apartment building.

“Does anyone he knows live there?”

Ronnie types furiously. “Yeah. His ex-boyfriend, Isaac Chau. I don’t know what their story is, but it’s not going to end well for Isaac if you don’t get there soon.”

Laurel is already suiting up. Barry taps his foot and does a little jogging in place. “Do you need some h—”

“No!” Laurel and Cisco reply in unison, and Laurel can feel her cheeks getting hot as she struggles to zip her jacket.

Cisco jogs over and helps her with the zipper, which is stuck. “Terrible design,” he says tightly. “We’ll fix that.”

Laurel is already adjusting her wig and snapping her choker into place.

“Can we go now?”

“Not yet,” Cisco says quickly. He hands Barry the joy-stick like device he was working on this afternoon, and he hands Laurel two earbuds. “I fixed our suit so that he can’t hurt you with his sound waves. That device should also help—it’ll trigger his devices to turn on him, amplifying the sound waves that he has a hard time managing, anyway,” he says to Barry before turning to Laurel.“And these should work as com devices and also protect your ears. The sonic blasts can still blow you guys around, though, so be careful.”

“Thanks, Cisco," says Barry. He turns to Laurel. “Are you ready now?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Laurel tells him sweetly. “Yes, Barry. We can go now.”

Laurel has forgotten how nauseating travel-by-Barry can be. She will have to mention it to Cisco when they get back, but at the moment, they are a little busy.

Hartley is wearing a dark green sweatshirt, black pants, and green gloves and boots. It is almost like he’s dressing up as the arrow, except for the fact that he’s scrawny and has no physical training whatsoever. “Come out and face me! I didn’t deserve to be treated like that, to be thrown out like some piece of garbage.”

“Got a date? Because you could stand to work on your charm,” Laurel says casually, approaching him with her staff extended.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the justice you can’t run from.”

Hartley starts laughing and turns around, sending another sonic wave towards the apartment complex. The glass shattering makes Laurel nervous; she hopes people are away from their windows.

“Did Cisco come up with that line? It’s horribly idealistic; it sounds like him. Did you know that I just had to push a few buttons to get him to let me out? It was child’s play.”

She swings at him hard with the bo staff, but he sees her just in time and squats to avoid the blow. Her next swing is faster, catching him on the side of the face with a meaty thwack. “Don’t badmouth my friends.”

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he says, raising his hands at her. She lands hard on the concrete, skidding a few feet and losing her breath. A surge of panic tries to rise within her, but she tamps it down. She sees Barry approaching Hartley from behind and sends him a subtle hand signal that she really hopes he’ll understand: _wait_.

Hartley walks confidently up to her. “Do you really think that I’m going to be stopped by some chick in black leather? This is my town, and I’m not going to be run out by some bottle blond with a justice complex.”

“Actually,” Laurel wheezes, “It’s a wig.” She nods at Barry before releasing the Canary Cry at the same time Barry presses the button on the device. Hartley positively _drops_ to the ground, clutching his ears and writhing. Barry is already manhandling Hartley into some high-tech handcuffs, although the latter is only feebly resisting as he chants something about _make it stop_ and _inhumane_.

Laurel pauses to catch her breath. When blood starts leaking out of Hartley's ears, Laurel takes the device from where Barry has set it down and turns it off. “That was for Cisco. And if you ever try to hurt anyone again, I have no problem spending my days down in the pipeline with this,” she raises the device, “this,” she points to her choker, “and your screams of freakish misery.”

“I think you broke Cisco,” Caitlin remarks over the coms. “He’s kind of fangirling.”

“I am not. That was just really, really badass.”

Hartley safely in the pipeline and the device returned to Cisco’s arsenal of weapons, Laurel is lying on her stomach as Caitlin and Cisco layer her upper back with ice packs over her thin STAR Labs t-shirt.

“That’s going to be a giant-ass bruise,” Barry remarks, wincing as he remembers how hard her back hit the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what he was going to do sooner. I heal faster. It should have been me.”

Laurel rolls her eyes. “I kind of left Star City to get away from the brooding vigilante type, Barry. Please don’t make me regret my decision.”

Barry gives her a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

Barry waves goodbye and leaves, but not before giving her some ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Laurel barely knows him, but she is already beginning to think of him as a teammate. Twenty minutes later, Laurel taps out of the ice treatment.

“Sorry to turn you into a Canary-sicle,” Caitlin says as she removes the last of the ice packs. “It should minimize the bruising, though. Take ibuprofen every four hours, but don’t take a hot shower or bath tonight. It can dilate your blood vessels and make it worse.”

“Got it,” Laurel groans as she sits up. Cisco immediately wraps her in his jacket, which is still warm and smells like him—spicy and sweet, warm and comforting.

“I’ll take you home,” he tells her, and she smiles gratefully.

Cisco does not just drop her off at her door. He walks her inside and makes her a cup of tea as she changes—slowly and painfully—into her softest nightgown.

“In bed,” he orders, and Laurel imagines a thousand different scenarios before quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Stop. I know where your mind just went and I wasn’t—not that I _wouldn’t_ —but you’ve had a really hard first night patrolling and I feel bad because it was Hartley, so get in bed. Now. Please.”

She wonders if he is some distant relation to Felicity, but obediently folds the covers back and slides between the sheets. He sets her tea down on a coaster on her bedside table and pulls the covers up to her chin. She feels like a little girl, but the warmth of the blankets is so welcome that she doesn’t complain. She sits up a little and reaches for her tea, surprised when it is exactly the level of sweetness she prefers. Cisco takes a seat beside her on the bed, and Laurel has never been so aware of his proximity.

“Thanks, Cisco.”

“I would say that it’s no problem, but it’s kind of a huge problem when you get hurt. Thank you for dealing with Hartley today. You cleaned up my mess.”

“That was a bigger mess than you could ever have made,” Laurel replies. “But if he ever says anything bad about you again, I’m putting him down.”

They say nothing as she finishes her tea, and when she snuggles down into bed, he drops a kiss on her forehead and turns off the lights, promising to lock up as he leaves. As she drifts off to sleep, Laurel realizes that she would have been much happier if she’d asked him to stay.

**III. The time she moved too fast**

Their first date was just over a week ago, and Laurel has all but moved into Cisco’s apartment. Of course, their first date concluded with his being shot in the chest with a .38 at close range, so Laurel thinks that they are off to an unconventional start, anyway.

At first, she stayed in his apartment because it was closer to the hospital, and she spent most of her time there, anyway. That excuse evaporated when Cisco came home from the hospital two days ago, but it is replaced with the fact that Cisco is still weak, drugged up, and so horribly mopey that her heart aches a little when she looks at him. She is sitting in his favorite recliner with a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. He is asleep on the couch, his head propped up on three pillows and his entire body covered with the fluffiest blanket Laurel can find in his hodgepodge of a linen closet. His forehead is creased, and she knows that his pain pill is wearing off. She hopes he wakes up soon, because Sara is supposed to be here with his surprise in ten minutes.

The thought of Sara makes Laurel’s heart clench for a multitude of reasons. She is so used to feeling pain whenever she thinks about Sara that it is odd to let herself feel joy and familiarity again. Laurel is surprised that this is not the strongest reason for her nervousness; as she stares down at Cisco’s sleeping face, she realizes that this will be their first “meet the family” moment as a couple.

“Laurel?” Cisco’s tone is sleepy and confused, and she finds him adorable.

She sets down her hot chocolate and comes to sit on the edge of the couch. “Hey,” she says, leaning down to kiss him.

“Mmm. You’ve been in my hot chocolate mix again, haven’t you?”

“It’s delicious and homemade. I can’t find it anywhere else, and so I have to steal yours.”

“I’ll bring you over to Abuela’s sometime. I’d offer to teach you myself, but it’s not the authentic experience unless she makes you wear a floral apron.”

Laurel laughs and brushes his hair back from his eyes. “I’ll get you a pain pill,” she tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You almost got yourself killed on our first date. You’re just going to have to deal with me hovering.”

Cisco tries to protest, but Laurel cranks the kitchen tap up so she can’t hear anything other than his shout of “Rude!” as she fills up a glass. He scowls when she returns with his bottle of pain pills and a glass, but shakes out a Dilaudid and drinks the full glass of water.

“I’m going stir-crazy,” he tells her. “I haven’t done anything in over a week, and Caitlin’s not letting me come back to work for forever.”

“Has anyone ever told you how theatrical you are?”

“Of course. I did some plays in college. That doesn’t negate the fact that I could totally be at work right now.”

“I’m sure,” Laurel says. The doorbell rings, and Cisco frowns. Nobody who knows him actually ever knocks or rings the bell.

“I’ll get it.”

“What’s up? Why are you so nervous?”

“You’ll see,” she tells him as she walks to the door, unlocks the deadbolt, and sees her sister’s face.

“Hey,” Sara says as she steps through the doorway and gently sets the crate she’s carrying down. She folds Laurel into a hug, swaying side to side a little in a manner that reminds Laurel of Thea. She is so much more affectionate since she came back from the dead, and all of that is weird to Laurel.

“Hey,” Laurel replies. “Is this her?” She points to the crate, squatting down to peer through the bars. Huddled at the back of the crate is a tiny puppy with a scrunched-up nose and floppy ears.

“Yep. The last one,” Sara says proudly. A stray dog had puppies behind the dumpster of the foundry, and the burden of finding homes for all of them (including the mother, which she and Nyssa kept) had fallen to Sara.

Laurel straightens and smiles, her heart pumping faster than usual. “Come with me. I want you to meet someone.”

When they arrive in the living room, Laurel is surprised to see Cisco sitting up in his recliner, the blanket neatly folded on top of his pile of pillows. She hopes he hasn’t ripped his stitches. She gestures to Sara to leave the crate behind the couch, where Cisco can’t see it, and then have a seat on the couch.

“Cisco, this is Sara Lance, my sister. Sara, this is Cisco Ramon, my boyfriend.” The last two words still feel new, and she can’t help but smile as she says them.

“Wow.” Cisco says, and in true Cisco fashion, he is grinning so hard that his dimples form tiny craters in the sides of his face. “The White Canary and the Black Canary are in my living room. At the same time. It’s casual.”

Sara grins back at him. “You’re adorable. And from what I hear, I’m the one who should be pleased to meet you. It’s not every day someone takes a bullet for your sister.”

“It’s not every day that I get a date with Laurel Lance.”

Sara puts her hand over her heart and turns to Laurel. “That’s it. We’re keeping him.”

Laurel’s cheeks almost ache from the force of her smile. “Speaking of keeping something. . .” She stands up and retreats behind the couch, crouching down to open the crate and pull the soft, shoebox-sized puppy into her arms. She stands up and walks towards Cisco, settling on the arm of his recliner. “I know that this is probably a little bit fast, but I kind of got us a puppy. Sara was going to have to give her to the pound if she couldn’t find her a home, and look at her cute little face. I’ll take care of her,” Laurel promises quickly. She holds the puppy up to Cisco, who takes her without hesitation.

“Look at you,” he croons, bringing her up to his face so he can study her features.

Smiling, Sara tells Cisco about the puppies by the foundry. “She’s a boxer/bulldog mix. That’s why her face is so smus—”

“—her face is perfect,” Cisco cuts her off, cradling the dog in question protectively to his chest. “She didn't mean it," he tells the puppy. "She is beautiful and wonderful and we,” he cuts his glance to Laurel, “will take excellent care of her. She’s going to be the perfect sounding board for all of the tech I get to think about and not build for the next two weeks. Yes you are, yes you are.” He seems to forget that Laurel and Sara are even in the room.

“So this is okay?” Laurel reaches out a hand to touch the puppy’s head. “It’s not too soon?”

“Laurel, we’ve already moved past the stage where we have to wear real pants around each other.” He gestures to the pajama pants he’s wearing, which are decorated with tiny Darth Vaders. The enthusiastic movement makes him wince, but he shakes it off.“I think we’ve reached the point where a puppy is just the next logical step. Besides, how could I say no to her face? And we’ll need her at the lab to test how having a mammalian pet affects our workplace relationship as opposed to aquatic pets. Really, this is necessary. For science,” he adds, making a soft noise as the puppy curls up in his lap and closes her eyes.

“For science,” Laurel agrees and pecks him quickly on the lips before turning to Sara.

“How did you convince Nyssa to let you keep one?”

Sara grins. “I told her that I didn’t want our kids growing up without a pet in the house.”

Laurel gasps. “Are you two. . .?”

Sara laughs. “No. Definitely not right now. But Nyssa has baby fever bad and I’m hoping that Warrior will help postpone things a few years until I’m ready to settle for good.”

“Nyssa has baby fever? Why did I not know this?”

“Because it’s the very complicated type of baby fever in which you’re an assassin who is dating a vigilante who just came back from the dead and you’re terrified of commitment and have horrible daddy issues.”

Cisco frowns a little and wiggles his head from side to side. “Fair. ‘Warrior,’ huh? What are we going to call this one? I was thinking—”

“Nope. You named my fish. It’s my turn.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to name it something vanilla,” Cisco whines.

“You don’t like Spot? Say it ain’t so,” Laurel deadpans. She looks around the living room, which is cluttered with so much geek memorabilia that it looks like a comic con threw up. She doesn’t recognize any of the video game characters, but a poster on the wall—an original poster for _Star Wars: A New Hope_ —catches her eye. “Leia.”

Cisco looks down at the sleeping puppy in his lap. “Leia,” he repeats. “I like it.”

“You two are such nerds,” Sara remarks.

“Actually,” Laurel and Cisco say together, looking at each other and bursting into laughter when they realize that they’ve said the same thing at the same time.

“We’re geeks. Nerds are passionate about really cool stuff, but they’re mostly math and science-centric. Geeks are also passionate about really cool stuff, but we’re more equal opportunity and into pop culture,” Cisco explains.

“Plus,” Laurel adds, “geeks dress well. No pocket protectors here.”

“God. What the hell have you done with my sister?”

“Took her out to a museum, dinner, and a break-in.”

“You really are the guy of her dreams,” Sara remarks, and Laurel and Cisco just smile and stare at each other, both petting the puppy together.

Later, Sara has gone back to Star City and they are left alone with the newest addition to their own little group. Leia is asleep between the arm of the couch and Laurel’s folded legs, which Cisco is using as a pillow.

“Laurel?”

“Yes?”

“Nobody has ever given me a puppy before. I thought you were a cat person.”

“The cat ate the Canary,” she reminds him. “I can’t take that sort of risk. Besides, I know you’re allergic, and I always wanted a puppy, too. Plus, the smile on your face was so worth it.”

“I’m still not convinced that I survived the shooting,” he confesses as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Sometimes, I think that I died and this is what heaven is like. Then my pain pills wear off and it all goes very ‘Highway to Hell’ very quickly.”

“Heaven, huh? You haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait until our third date.”

The way he freezes in her lap makes her laugh. “Third date? What happens then?”

“You’ll just have to get well soon so you can find out.”

In all of her years of being around constantly-injured people—from her dad to her danger-loving teammates in Star City—Laurel has never seen anyone so devoted to doing their physical therapy exercises.

**IV. The time she wore a long-sleeved wedding dress**

“What about this one?”

It is rare, but Laurel has managed to gather almost all of her bridesmaids in one place for a planning session. Felicity, Sara, Nyssa, Thea and Caitlin are all present, although Joanna has a big case that she can’t drop but promises to be available for the whole week before the wedding. Armando, Cisco’s oldest brother, has agreed to host the wedding party at his house for an evening of fun and relaxation. He lives an hour from Central City, and owns acres and acres of land which are perfect for the hayride and bonfire evening they are enjoying. The boys are smoking pipes and cigars in the hay-filled trailer while the girls gather around the fire, warming their hands and passing wedding magazines and phones around the circle as they search for bridesmaid and wedding dress ideas.

Laurel looks longingly at the dress on Thea’s phone. It is strapless. “Nope. Remember that knife to the shoulder blade I got three months ago?”

“Dammit.”

“You could wear a shrug,” Sara suggests, and Laurel wrinkles her nose.

“There’s no point to a strapless dress if you’re going to cover it up.”

“This one could work,” Felicity puts in, handing Laurel a magazine flipped open to a tea-length number with a sweetheart neckline and delicate cap sleeves.

“It’s beautiful. I don’t know where the sleeves would hit on me, though. My scar from the time I jumped through—”

“—Oops. I forgot about that one.”

“Why don’t you just use makeup to cover up your scars? I could hire you a makeup artist as my wedding present and make sure they didn’t tell anyone.” Thea mimes pulling the drawstring of an imaginary bow to the corner of her mouth.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t want to worry about getting makeup all over the dress. I also don’t want to be so made over that I don’t feel like me anymore,” Laurel says softly, closing the magazine in disgust. “Maybe we should just go to City Hall in our normal clothes.”

“Why don’t we work on bridesmaid dresses instead?” Nyssa’s attempt to change the subject is not subtle, but it is appreciated.

“Would any of you be absolutely opposed to wearing this color?” Laurel pulls a binder out of her purse and flips to a page containing a square of rose-red satin.

“That’s gorgeous” Caitlin remarks, and everyone else makes noises of assent.

“Good. Cisco and I want that red, silver, and black to be our wedding colors. Do any of you have a dress style in mind?”

“Well, I’d say floor-length is a good idea, considering my scars and Nyssa’s scars, and you just got one on your calf, Thea,” Sara begins, and everyone groans.

It takes them ages to agree on a style, which is a one-shoulder, floor-length satin gown with an empire waist marked with delicate silver beading.

“It’s the wrong shoulder,” Felicity remarks, “but I’m good with makeup. You won’t even know it’s there, I promise.”

“I’m responsible for that one,” Sara says. “I’ll help you cover it up.”

“I’m a little disturbed that I know so many people who have jumped in front of bullets,” muses Caitlin. “I’m not sure that it’s normal.”

“It depends on where you’re from,” Nyssa says quietly with a hint of a smile.

 

In the end, nobody’s scars are showing. Sara and Thea manage to cover Felicity’s scar with ease, and Laurel finds her perfect dress a month before the wedding. It is a soft white mermaid dress with a lace overlay and translucent three-quarter-length sleeves that aren’t sheer enough to see any of her scars. It hugs her body perfectly, accentuating what she loves about herself and hiding all of her insecurities. A small train trails behind her, and Thea playfully scatters it with rose petals before running away.

Clutching her father’s arm in the back of the very large, very Catholic church where Cisco’s parents insist that they get married, Laurel forces herself to take a deep breath. She has no insecurities about marrying Cisco, but every insecurity about tripping in front of all of her guests.

“Breathe, Laurel,” her dad tells her with a smile. He swallows deeply. “You look beautiful, honey. I’m so happy for you today.”

Laurel can feel her nose tickling, and she blinks rapidly. “Thanks, Daddy. Please don’t make me cry.”

“I won’t. I’ll just make him cry if he ever hurts you.”

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Laurel says with a smile as she watches Felicity tie the rings to Leia’s collar with a big red bow.

“I do. I’ll never stop trying to protect you, though.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” Laurel lifts up her veil and plants a kiss on his cheek. She spends a moment allowing herself to marvel at the unbreakable man who raised her. “I love you.”

“Places,” Thea calls loudly, and there is a flurry of activity as the groomsmen and bridesmaids get into pairs and Felicity snaps a silver leash onto Leia’s collar before linking arms with her fiancé.

Laurel doesn’t even remember watching the procession of bridesmaids and groomsman as they walk down the aisle. What she does remember is the moment she and her father start slowly down the aisle, moving in time to the instrumental music she has chosen. Cisco doesn’t know what the song is going to be, and she sees him laugh when he realizes that it is the theme song to _The Princess Bride_.

They lock eyes, and everything else fades. Laurel doesn’t focus on the rose-strewn isle or the beautiful swathes of ribbon and tulle or the multitude of softly-glowing candles that light the inside of the church. What she does see are Cisco’s eyes, the warmest brown, and his smile, which is bigger than the smile he gave her when she told him her secret identity. She feels her own face mirroring his. Laurel barely registers her father’s lifting her veil and kissing her cheek as he places her hands in Cisco’s.

She is sure that the readings and prayers are beautiful, but she is too busy thinking _I get to spend my life with him_ to pay particular attention until it comes time to say their vows.

“And now the bride and groom will recite their vows, which they have written.”

Cisco goes first. He licks his lips and pulls a strand of hair that has fallen out of his sleek ponytail behind his ear before he takes both of Laurel’s hands in his. “I, Francisco Santiago Ramon, promise to keep loving you the way I have since the moment I first saw you. I promise to take care of you, to stay with you, to be yours when everything else might fall away. I will be your husband, your friend, your protector and your partner forever, to the ends of the earth and beyond.”

Laurel feels tears pooling in her eyes, and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s her turn now. The way he is looking at her makes it difficult to speak. “I, Dinah Laurel Lance, had some really beautiful vows written and I can’t even remember them after that.”

Everyone laughs, Laurel included.

“I, Dinah Laurel Lance, promise to always love you. I promise that our marriage will be more than a ceremony or a piece of paper, but instead a partnership and a union of love. I promise that I will always be here for you as your friend, your wife, your solace. I promise to be yours through whatever obstacles we face, because I know that whatever comes our way is no match for us together. I promise to protect you, to adore you, and to grow with you as long as we live.”

The priest, Father Tristan, steps forward and asks for the rings. Barry unties them from Leia’s collar, and she chooses that moment to let out an excited grunt and wag her tail.

“It’s good to know that you have her approval,” the Father jokes. He blesses the rings and officiates the exchange of them. “By the power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Cisco doesn’t need an invitation. He pulls her to him and gives her what may be the most passionate kiss they have shared so far. Laurel feels as though she is floating, and smiles against his lips as they pull back from each other. A loud whistle sounds, and Laurel spots Kim giving her a thumbs up from the third pew back. She grins, and Kim winks.

The father restores decorum during a brief final prayer before he steps back and smiles at them. “I present to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Cisco Ramon! Go in peace with Christ.”

As one, the congregation replies, “Thanks be to God.”

It is then that their recessional starts playing, and it is not the one that Laurel picked; Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” fills the church. She sends Cisco a questioning look, and he shrugs.

“It seemed appropriate. I always hear angels singing when I get to kiss you.”

It is disgustingly sentimental, but Laurel has earned the right to be sentimental today, and so she just pulls him in for another kiss before they run out of the church together, hand in hand, and are greeted with a hard rain of well-meant yet painful birdseed.

**V. The time she gave him the news**

It is on the last night of their honeymoon that Laurel gives Cisco the news. He already knows it, but his self-denial is getting ridiculous and Laurel is pretty sure that he’s embarrassed. They have spent their honeymoon in Cardiff, Wales, which they chose because it is the home of the _Doctor Who_ Experience and they have both always wanted to go. They tell people that it is because of Laurel’s Welsh heritage, but neither of them is exactly sure where the Lance family really came from.

Not that their location has truly mattered to them, because they have spent the last week and six days doing exactly what two newlyweds are expected to be doing on their honeymoon. There have been a few brief breaks to see the sights and to stroll along the bay area, but largely, they have spent their time in a tiny little condo that they rented for two weeks.

It is out of concern for the condo that Laurel feels she must say something. The first night, it could have been a coincidence or shoddy construction. Regardless, the bed fell apart. The screws had all rattled loose, and it was right after they both reached their peaks that they found themselves crashing towards the ground. They laughed, and Cisco dragged the mattress into the living room, promising to put the whole thing back together before they leave.

The third night, it was the pictures falling off of the walls. There was a storm, and Cisco blames that.

The sixth night, some of the dishes in the kitchen cracked.

It has gotten progressively worse, and Laurel worries that although Thea is bankrolling this adventure, the damage to the condo is becoming too extensive. Last night, one of the windows shattered.

She plans to make the best of their last night here, but is hoping that saying something will prevent them from leaving the place in a pile of rubble. Laurel suggests a nice, quiet picnic at one of the picnic tables near the water. It is sunset, and she can see all different colors of sailboats carving through the water. They sit on the same side of the bench, her head on his shoulder as they finish the last of the chocolate-covered strawberries she made last night. “Cisco, I need to tell you something.”

“Mmmm.”

Laurel sits up straight and turns, taking both of his hands in hers.

“Please tell me you don’t want an annulment.”

“As if. Cisco, have you noticed the way things are . . . getting damaged in the condo.”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “I wasn’t expecting the place to be this rickety. It looks pretty solid.”

“It is. Tell me, what kind of stuff has been breaking? What does the damage seem like if you step back and look at it?”

Cisco furrows his brow. “It’s kind of like damage from an earthquake. Are you having flashbacks?” He presses a hand to her cheek, and she leans into it.

“No, Cisco. You’re sweet, but no. What do you think caused all of this?”

“Well, we were having some pretty great—”

“We definitely were, but I’ve always heard of earth-shaking orgasms in the metaphorical sense. Cisco, you know you’re a meta-human.”

“Yeah, but I just have the lamest power ever. Alternate timelines, woohoo. Occasionally, I see how I would die if someone made the wrong choice. It’s weird—one time, I had this dream about Barry and Captain Cold getting it on.” He shudders. “It was so real.”

“What did Doctor Wells tell you?”

“Not Doctor Wells,” he corrects, and Laurel rolls her eyes.

“Fake Doctor Wells, then. What did he say?”

“That I could ‘see through the vibrations of the universe’ or some bullshit like that.”

“Cisco, you are incredibly smart, but you are really being stupid right now. The shaking of the house when we. . . you know. . . I think that’s caused by vibrations.”

Cisco’s eyes widen. “You don’t think that I can—that I could _control_ vibrations, too?”

“I don’t think you _have_ control of it at all, but I know you can do it.”

“Because of what happens when we _do it_?”

Laurel sighs. “Yes, Cisco.”

Cisco is silent for a long while, staring at his hands.

Laurel thinks that if his mind had a speedometer, his thoughts would clock in at around a trillion miles a minute. “Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It explains a lot,” he says. “But I have a question for you.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you say I’ve been giving you . . . ‘Good Vibrations’?”

“Cisco!”

Later that night, Mr. and Mrs. Ramon conclude that these vibrations are _very_ good indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments with suggestions for future pieces in this series are more than welcome.


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